


Chase The Fire Away

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison is the best friend ever, Angst, Derek use your words, F/M, I abuse the tags, Jackson isn't an asshole!, M/M, Yet Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2013-01-18
Packaged: 2017-11-26 00:25:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles thinks forever means forever. Until it doesn't.<br/>(Or, the one in which Derek wants to keep from burning Stiles up like his family, and chooses the worst way to go about it.)<br/>~<br/>“Oh, honey,” she said, and Stiles finally broke. Tears streamed down his face as he stuttered, “Forever, Allison. He said forever and I thought he meant it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chase The Fire Away

**Author's Note:**

> First work (with some in-progress!) so hey. This happened, and I pushed myself to publish.
> 
> Title from 'Lakehouse', Of Monsters and Men.

Stiles had to admit that there tended to be a sort of joy in the righteous anger. A bitter burn, so to speak, in flinging hurtful words at each when something has pissed you off that badly. Or something stupid. Which this _wasn’t_. It was _important._

There was no joy in seeing Derek walk away, unwilling to even impart on the reason why. There was nothing but an empty vacancy that left the wrong taste in his mouth, made him _ache_ somewhere deep.

 

He thought that he broken through to Derek, had thought that they were _forever_ , Scott-and-Allison forever. Dammit, he had told that to Derek, and he had told him _everything._

 

He had introduced him to his mother, had told him that he felt happy, had told him he _loved_ Derek. Derek had said the right thing to her gravestone, had whispered in his ear “you mean the fucking world to me, Stiles”, and had kissed his forehead before answering him the same.

 

And then he expected Stiles to sit there while he said, “It’s not forever, Stiles. We can’t.” He had gotten up and _left_ as Stiles screamed at him. Had expect him to take it and deal.

 

Stiles curled up in the middle of his bed and slept. Work was as tiring as college. Even though he worked _at_ a school as a kindergarten teacher. Thank God for the summer, he reasoned absently. Allison and Scott found him like that. Scott scented the air and snarled, scaling the window and running off, leaving Allison to deal with Stiles.

 

“Oh, honey,” she said, and Stiles finally broke. Tears streamed down his face as he stuttered, “ _Forever_ , Allison. He said _forever_ and I thought he _meant_ it.”

 

Allison tensed and then murmured in his ear, “I swear Scott will talk to him and make him realize what an idiot he’s being. And if he can’t, _I_ will.” Allison had stepped up to being Stiles’s self-appointed “bestie” after Lydia fled to Harvard after spectacularly breaking up with Jackson, and basically cut all lines of communications. Stiles thought Allison was actually a better one, truth to tell.

 

Stiles continued crying and Allison continued, “He’s a bastard, babe, and I’ll kill him if I need to.” She stroked back Stiles’s hair. “His stupid stubble. His broodiness.”

 

“The way he pushed me into walls and shit,” Stiles managed to gasp out, and Allison nodded enthusiastically, encouraging him. “And his goddamn emotional walls. I _broke_ them, I thought. Maybe I was wrong! Wouldn’t that take the fucking cake, huh, Pansy? Fucking tigress, _you_ and Scott are forever. Derek and I, I guess, were just ‘till-it-ends-forever’. That makes more sense. I should have seen it coming.”

 

“You couldn’t have,” Allison said softly, her thumb pressing gently against his collarbones. “He’s an idiot, Sparky.”

 

“But I thought that Mom would like him!” Stiles burst out, and tears welled again. “He said that he was lucky to have me! I thought maybe he meant it! I _wanted_ him to! Allison, I _love_ him,” and he collapsed. Allison knew words wouldn’t work at this point, and she twined herself around the wailing boy, and soothed him with the comfort of another body close.

 

*

 

Derek felt the pain in his mate, and he bit back a roar of fury and despair. He had to protect Stiles. He was going to burn him up, just like the rest of his family. He trusted the wrong people. He recalled Stiles’s angry and broken scream, “How can you fucking _do_ that to me?”

 

How could he was right. He deserved a thousand deaths for pulling away from his mate, but he needs to protect Stiles. He needed to keep him safe, even if he had to bear the pain for it.

 

He heard some people—wolves—getting close. He stood and expected the force to hit him in the chest. “Mother _fucker_ ,” Scott spat at him. “I can’t believe you. Goddammit! Does he have _any_ idea what he means to you? Why don’t you _tell_ him? And explain? Do you have _any_ idea what you mean to him? He’s just _lying_ there, Derek, and not saying a fucking word!”

 

Jackson stood there, just growling and blue eyes flashing. He admittedly liked Stiles, protective of the man, and was nearly as vindictive as Scott at this point.

 

At the end, Derek was pushing back at Scott, growling. “He deserves better!”

 

“That martyr-bullshit isn’t working, Derek! You love him! And you’ve beaten him so hard he’s lost his fight!” Jackson shouted.

 

“He’ll recover,” Derek said, and turned his head away from both of them.

 

And he guessed Stiles did. He saw him around town. Once he saw him with Allison, closer than he was comfortable with. Stiles didn’t see him, but Allison did, and she nearly roared at him, but she bared her teeth in a vicious, silent growl, until he went away. It hurt to be so close to his mate and not be _with_ him.

 

But after two months, he was at the grocery store, shopping for Isaac. Isaac still came home occasionally bathed in Stiles’s scent. It drove Derek wild, but he didn’t let him know that. He turned to grab a box of “Rice Krispies” according to Isaac’s childish print, and bumped into someone’s hand.

 

“Oh!” he heard, and dragged his eyes up to see his _mate_ staring at him like someone had fucking knifed him. “Oh. I’m sorry. Go ahead,” Stiles managed to say, and Derek wanted to wrap him in his arms, carry him away.

 

“Stiles—” This was stupid. _He_ was stupid. Nothing had happened. He had panicked. Ruined fucking everything.

 

“No,” Stiles blurted. “Just don’t.” And turned and fled, leaving a mournful Derek alone.

 

*

 

“How can he!” Stiles ranted over the steaming cup of orange tea that Allison had steeped for him. “How can he just _do_ that, and expect me to be okay? No, Pansy, I’m fine. Not happy, but fine. But _him_. How can he…” He trailed off, laying his head against the cool wood.

 

“It hurts, Pans,” he muttered. “I thought maybe. But Nick wasn’t him. So I don’t think there’s anyone.” Allison’s face was collected, but her eyes gave her away, and Stiles narrowed in on it. “Pansy? What?”

 

“Nothing, Sparky,” she answered infuriatingly, and dodged any other attempts to talk about it. He gave up, and downed the tea, wincing at the burning citrusy flavor. “God, Sparks. You’re not supposed to drink it like _that_.” She shook her head at him, and Stiles grinned back crookedly, ignoring the familiar ache in his chest.

 

When he fell asleep in the guest room of Scott’s and Allison’s, he awoke to a tapping. A god-awful well-known tapping. “No,” he said to the air, eyes open. _“No.”_   He stood, and left the room.

 

He spent the night on the sofa. And the next one after that, after he awoke to the tapping. He didn’t even try to spend the night in his bed after the third day. But on the ninth day, he was stopped by a thick hand against his chest as he left the door. “Stiles,” Derek growled out, and that broke Stiles. _Again._

 

“No!” he screamed. “You don’t get to do this to me! Again! You don’t! Goddamn you Derek, you _cannot_ do this!” He broke away, feeling his face crumple. “You can’t,” he whispered, and broke into a run, making his way to the car and driving to the cemetery, before breaking down and sobbing.

 

When his tears ran dry, he stood, making his way through plots of land until he came to the small stone titled _Stella Stilinski_. “Mom?” he asked quietly, feeling eleven again, feeling the warmth in his mother’s eyes fade into cool nothingness. “He. I don’t know what he’s trying to do. I can’t take it.”

 

He missed her. The thirteen years he’s had without her doesn’t mean the eleven he got were nothing. It made them all the more special. “I love him. But he fucking shattered me, Mom. I can’t have that happen again. God, he ruined a perfect relationship just because it _wasn’t_ him. I want to be happy, Mom, but I’m not meant to be. I know.”

 

“You are,” the rough voice said, and Stiles nearly bolted again. “Stiles. Just—listen okay? And then you can talk.” Stiles narrowed his eyes, then nodded stonily.

 

“I. I messed up. And I know that’s so damn cliché, but you’re my only. You’re my mate, Stiles.” Derek sounded so goddamn sincere it hurt. He _wanted_ to believe him. “I didn’t want you to get hurt. I _don’t_. I never did.” His voice closed off, he was trying and that dug even farther into Stiles.

 

But he couldn’t just let him off. “You _left_ while I screamed,” Stiles shouted, his heart wrenching hard in his chest. “You told me that your forever meant nothing. You told me that talking to my _mother_ meant nothing! You said that everything we had meant nothing, Derek! _Nothing,_ goddammit!” By the end of his rant, he was crying, _again._ He never seemed to run out of tears permanently, and that bothered him.

 

“Goddammit Derek,” he repeated, whispering. Derek stared at him, the only sign of life being his eyes. “I love you.” He continued crying, not moving.

 

He pretended not to notice when Derek engulfed him, pressing his own wet cheek to Derek’s broad chest. He pretended not to hear when Derek murmured in his ear, promising him the world, and swearing that he would treasure his mate.

 

What made him stop pretending was when he said, “Forever means everything to me, Stiles. You’re my forever.”

 

“Then why,” Stiles said. It wasn’t a question. “The truth, Derek. Please.”

 

“Because I didn’t want you to be hurt. I was scared of burning you up.”

 

“Derek,” Stiles said, trying not to shudder against him. “I thought I told you I’m always going to be okay. I told you I would always manage to be okay, _okay?_ I can’t manage if you try this again. I really can’t.”

 

Derek told him, his voice soft and warm in Stiles’s ear, “I will _never_. You are forever. Mates need to be taken care of. Always.”

 

*

 

Allison wasn’t pleased with Derek’s explanation. Stiles had to talk her down from shooting him multiple times. The former huntress retained her violent tendencies, even after taking a job as the nefarious “Preserve Watcher”. (Nefarious due to her notorious reputation for breaking up teens’ “sexy-times”, in Stiles’s words.)

 

Scott was worse. He looked like he would throttle Derek without even _threatening_ him beforehand. Every time Derek touched Stiles, he would growl threateningly. He would hardly let Stiles out of his sight when he was with him.

 

Jackson lost all sense of respect, evidently. He didn’t speak to Derek, preferring to relay his statements to Stiles. Stiles seemed confused and slightly amused by this fact.

 

Even Isaac were displeased. Isaac whimpered at Derek, before burrowing into Stiles’s side right in front of Derek, and Derek caught words like “never let him” and “safe with me”. He looked at Stiles, who smiled lightly, shrugging.

 

They managed somehow, through the rough times. Allison began to smile briefly at Derek again. Scott could take orders, and could let Stiles alone with Derek in the same house. Jackson would speak to Derek. Isaac would grin broadly at the sight of Stiles curled in Derek’s lap, asleep as Derek gazed at him.

 

Maybe it was a wistful thought, Derek admitted. But maybe the Terrible Incident brought him closer to Stiles. And then he dismissed that. He had been an idiot, and he wouldn’t forget it. Maybe he could forgive himself, though.

 

He smiled now at Stiles, who was attempting to grill steaks. He dropped the tongs and swore. “Goddammit!” he bit out, and laughed ruefully. “Derek? Help! Use your claws or something, I don’t know!”

 

Derek rolled his eyes, but obediently pulled the steaks onto the platter. A clean pair of tongs sailed out the door of the house, and Stiles caught them absently. He was amazing, Derek thought suddenly. It wasn’t the first time he had thought it, but the sight of Stiles, flushed cheeks from the heat, eyes sparkling in the evening, swept him away.

 

He kissed him, and smiled at Stiles’s surprised gasp.

 

“We’re eating those!” came Jackson’s indignant shout.

 

Stiles called back, “And how many times have I had to clean those filthy sheets with god-knows-who’s… fluids?”

 

There wasn’t an answer, and Stiles giggled like a little kid. Derek noticed the stirrings of something in his chest—something other than love for Stiles, that was _always_ there. It was something… oddly paternal. The thought of a little Stiles. To raise.

 

He didn’t say anything, but chose to keep Stiles close. That was the best choice.

 

Always.

**Author's Note:**

> Bam? Bam.
> 
> Comments are love, kudos are nice, all the jive. Thanks, darlings, for reading. Means a lot.


End file.
